


Equivalent Exchange

by norcumi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, Don’t copy to another site, GFY, Gore, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Slavery, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, meta in the form of ficlets, rescued from the tumblr purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: A title prompt that got away from me, then developed world-building as people kept asking interesting questions.In a wide galaxy, finding a soulmate is hard enough. Figuring out who has your first words in conversation to them on their body - Implausible. Captain Rex might have spent some time wondering about the blurry, illegible words he has, but he's busy with a war and chasing after his crazy Jedi. That only gets harder with a dangerous Force-sensitive assassin on the loose.





	1. The Premise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arwen00710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwen00710/gifts).



> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/14/2016.
> 
> At the time, I was taking prompts for titles to fic I wouldn't write. This was prompted by [@pumpkin-lith](http://pumpkin-lith.tumblr.com/), who took the plunnie and RAN with it like an amazing wind. You can find the results in her amazing fic [Ashnar Urcir](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710687/chapters/19972156). 
> 
> "There is a VERY strong influence by [@deadcatwithaflamethrower](https://deadcatwithaflamethrower.tumblr.com/) and her [Speaker of Valaeanath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/496954), and moreover [In a Lonely Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/259403/chapters/405364) (go read those; they are incredibly awesome and ALL HAIL). I think I’m probably also influenced by [@poplitealqueen](http://poplitealqueen.tumblr.com/), because I was nibbling around [the edges](http://poplitealqueen.tumblr.com/post/148191189974/i-lost-you-once-sir-rexs-jaw-visibly-works-as) of her fic lately."
> 
> Please note, most of this was written while sleep deprived and has not been edited. Also, I kept using "pectoral" when what I SHOULD have said was "gorget." A learning experience was had by all. *jazzhands*

The war has been hell. Rex is back on Coruscant for a brief leave (as a bonus, General Skywalker will have some downtime with his wife). It’s good, but always strange, to not be fighting. Neither the actual fight against the Seps, nor the longer, quieter war to see his brothers get their due recognition as sentient members of the Republic. Skywalker, his master, and most of the Jedi Council are working the problem, and Rex and Cody get involved in way more political shit than they’d like.

It helps that most clones – like most sentients – have soulmarks. A soulmate’s first words spoken to them, emblazoned somewhere upon one’s skin. It’s not a perfect system – entire species don’t have them (and that doesn’t include the species without clear verbal speech, let alone the ones with “skin” being a relative term). Close enough that it’s a damn good argument.

Rex himself has an odd one, blurred words and at least one is in a language he doesn’t know (and several very learned Jedi don’t either). It’s on the left of his chest, above the heart but below the collarbone, now disrupted by the shiny pockmark of a sniper blast that almost knocked him out of the war not too long after it began. He’s not too fussed about it: he’s a clone commander in a war that has seen far too many dead, and the end isn’t anywhere in sight. Almost three years now, with incredible attrition everywhere – he’s ignoring even the bad luck of having an injury like that on his soulmark. He’s survived this long, right?

The engagement that has started off as The Outer Rim Surge has become The Outer Rim Sieges. One night, just after bunking down for his 6 hours off duty, Rex has the most bizarre sensation. When something that’s not an earthquake, crashing shuttle, or any other experience Rex has had stops, all he knows is that he is…somewhere else. He _had_ been in a tiny private room in the temporary barracks (shared with Cody, and temporary as of over a month ago).

He’s now on his knees in a thick plush carpet, in a richly appointed set of rooms with closed doors that all have controls that show the dim red light of a secure lock from the other side.

When he tries to scrub some sleep confusion out of his eyes (or the starbursts out) Rex stops cold. The hands he’s looking at are not his. The skin is far too pale, shape human but all wrong with callouses in all the wrong places.

He stumbles to his feet (leaner than he should be, dressed in dark trousers and tunics with high boots) and makes it to a mirror on the far wall of the bedroom. “What the fuck?” he sputters in a voice a bit higher pitched than his own, with an accent almost as pure Coruscanti as General Jinn’s though with a bit of a rough burr to it.

The clean-shaven man looking back at him has a shock of red-blond hair, mussed to spike every which way. Pale blue eyes and laugh or frown lines that make him look old, when the rest of his face looks young.

Then Rex freezes, just as terrified as he is horrified. The man reflected at him is wearing ordinary clothes that one would find on any Republic or Sep citizen, but he also has an ornate pectoral collar on. It looks like woven and engraved strands of metal ( _Cortosis_ , General Jinn had called it, something impervious to lightsabers), curving up and wrapping around the throat snug as the collar of Rex’s blacks.

He knows that. _Everyone_ in the damned GAR knows that. Dooku’s Assassin. When Assassin had first shown up, weeks into the war, they’d thought it was a new kind of droid, some experimental super commando clanker, or something.

Experimental, and terrifying. Cutting down Jedi after Jedi, brothers by the squads. Dressed in all enveloping black, masked and with that terrifying cortosis collar that was apparently a damned effective shield against lightsabers. Brothers tossed around the nickname Davaab – execution – because when it showed up on the field, countless died.

Rex had been piloting in atmosphere the first time Skywalker faced him. Skywalker had been the first Jedi to walk away from facing the Assassin – minus a limb, but it was his cybernetic arm anyways so things could have been much, much worse. He’d also found out that the Assassin was no droid, but a being that bled red, needed to breathe. Cortosis, after all, might protect from lightsabers, but it could still be crushed by the Force.

The next battlefield the Assassin had appeared at, he’d had a new collar, one more flexible yet still sufficient protection to cut down more Jedi.

Rex now wears it.

“No. No, no no no!” Rex contorts in front of the mirror, trying to find the damn catch to open the fucking thing, but it looks as if it were sealed in place, perhaps _crafted_ in place. It’s possible that it’s all an elaborate ruse, and the Assassin is indeed a droid, but that makes no sense.

Rex sheds his top in the hope that he can find a latch without fabric in the way, only to stop with his arms still caught in the sleeves. The Assassin has plenty of scars, but the most noticeable one is just above the heart. It’s wide, rough looking but silky smooth as only lightsaber wounds are. It’s also messy in how broad and raised it is, as if it were a repeated trauma site.

A far-too familiar set of incomprehensible words trace over that stab wound, right where Rex himself was shot.

Gods. This – no. Rex shakes the tunic off his arms, stepping closer to the mirror. That stranger with a face he’s never seen before is staring like he’s seen a ghost. Rex’s soulmate is the Assassin? What fucking kind of a joke _is_ this?

When he touches the lightsaber scar, thumb brushing over the strange metal collar, something happens. It is a memory, more vivid than the worst flashback Rex has ever had, which is even odder because this is not _his_ memory. He’s in the ‘fresher attached to these rooms (and in this memory he is keenly aware that there are no doors within the place, nothing he can close to the others should they intrude on what is pretended to be his space). He’s on his knees in the shower space, holding a small vibroblade put on the variable setting that’s useless except for tackling armor that can’t calibrate to keep up with changes. The blade’s been driven right through his hand, while the other one is clutching the edge of the collar with thumb brushing against the scar.

He’s tired. He’s terrified. Grieving and furious and determined, while everything in the room pulses in a way that is familiar to MemoryHim, but not to Rex.

# _I’ve no time,_ # the man thinks to himself, snarling as the knife changes its oscillation pattern and tears further into his hand. # _I just have to hope I’m leaving a strong enough emotional impression that when the Force returns you’ll feel it._ #

It’s not a shock that the Assassin is Force sensitive. There’s no way he could move the way he does otherwise, let alone wield lightsabers and fight against Jedi better than Asajj Ventress ever did. # _Fast acting Force suppressant – I don’t know when they’ll administer it to me, and I can only fuck up so often, and if I’m too blatant they’ll wonder._ #

Grief surges hard, and MemoryHim bows his head, baring his teeth in a furious growl. # _I’m sorry, soulmate. You are the only hope I have. Things are finally coming to a head and – gods, I have no idea who you are but please, just follow your instincts and know that I will do everything I can to come for you. If you’re sent out, it’s possible the compulsions won’t work on you, but –_ #

Fury sends a bright, heated cast so that the room somehow brightens. # _Blame me. Either I will explain, or I will make sure others can explain, but everything that happens now is my fault. Be strong, please. I will come for you as quickly as I can._ #

MemoryHim – the Assassin – pulls the vibrobade free, curling around his wounded hand so that it is clenched between scar and pectoral. Rex can feel something he suspects is manipulation of the Force, because his hand is going numb but not in the blood-loss kind of way he’d worry about. Everything feels like despair, tinged with desperate need. # _I would not do this if the very Republic weren’t at stake._ _I’m so sorry._ # MemoryHim lifts his head, and yellow and red blazing eyes glare back from the Assassin’s face.

The memory ends, and when Rex yanks his hand away that buzzing, _living_ sensation from the memory is everywhere. It takes him awhile to get that under control, and in the end it is as the Assassin said – he has that man’s instincts.

He learns other things over the week that follows. He is on Serenno, serving at the whims of the Sep leader – the former Jedi Dooku.

The Assassin is not anything that Rex might have thought. His instincts are for quiet, stony obedience, which is no surprise given how he is punished for the slightest error. The collar is one in truth, that constricts upon Dooku’s commands.

Worst is the mission he is sent out on at the end of the tenday. Dooku gives him orders to kill all the Jedi on a small transport to Illum – not to destroy the shuttle, but to board it and make sure it will reach its destination with every being aboard dead. The moment the mission is given, Rex’s body is even less his than at any moment before. It moves on its own – not woodenly, like a badly programmed or cheap droid, but with the smooth feralness that the Assassin always has.

Rex is a passenger to the preparations, and he hates how he knows exactly how horrible this mission is. Illum is one of the planets Jedi younglings go to get their lightsaber crystals. He thought that all such excursions had been halted, but some on the Council are hidebound traditionalists and occasional idiots to boot. He tries to fight, and he finds that he can slow down his movements, fumble an otherwise sure grip, but he can only slow things, divert. He can do nothing to stop.

There are only a few locations where the shuttle from Coruscant would come out of hyper to change course on its way to Illum. Rex waits at the second of four. When he slips through the forcibly opened hatch, temporary atmospheric shield in place, his heart is in his throat.

When he sees Ahsoka talking to someone around the corner, he manages a soft scuff of the foot.

His General’s padawan. His Commander. No surprise that she’d be assigned as chaperone to younglings – she’d done it at least once before to his knowledge. Yet damned if he’s going to be the cause of her death. He’s prepared to fight with everything he’s got to stop the body he’s wearing, when the breath gets knocked out of him. A bit of that is the Force push lifting him and pinning him back against the wall. It’s strong and steady enough that it has to be more than one Jedi, probably including General Skywalker himself who’s always been a powerhouse.

Part of it is shock, because the clone stepping around the corner is him. The armor, the movements – he’s seen holo footage of himself before, and it is _him_.

It’s his own voice barking out something harsh, the words slithering over him with an almost physical shiver.

That shiver breaks through the collar, which hits the floor with a louder _thunk_ than something that size should.

He literally finds himself in control of everything, from movements to something as simple as breathing. The Force around him gentles, and that damned collar slides away from them all. Rex still goes to his knees when he’s released, but he’s caught before he faceplants. He’s rolled over and cuddled  close, and it’s damned strange as his soulmate shucks off Rex’s own damned bucket. “I’m so sorry,” are the first words Rex hears, but he’s starting to grin in disbelief.

“What fucking language was that?” he asks right back, wondering at the new scar his body has at the temple. He can see Ahsoka stepping back to stand between Skywalker and Jinn, all three Jedi looking pretty wrecked. Then his soulmate is kissing him, something deep and desperate and the world is spinning again.

It’s damned strange to pull back, in a sitting position now instead of sprawled in a lap. The redhead in his arms lets out a relieved sob, still apologizing, and Rex just pulls him closer. Mission accomplished, whatever the fuck it was. That’s good enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vague, possibly incoherent world-building notes:
> 
> So vaguely I’m thinking Obi-Wan “died” on Naboo, or more likely he faced Maul on Tatooine and “scarified himself” so the others could get away. Maul did indeed stab Obi-Wan – thus the scar he has to match Rex’s – but he didn’t kill him. Instead Maul dragged Obi-Wan back to Palpatine, who used Obi-Wan as further incentive for Dooku to come to the dark side. (mmmmaybe instead Obi-Wan either failed his trials, and wandered around for awhile before being caught by Dooku. Or he passed his trails and then got caught. Whatever appeals to the future author of the work)
> 
> The collar is some Sith artifact that makes its wearer follow the orders given in the old Sith language (which would be the language Obi-Wan is speaking when he first meets Rex).
> 
> The body swap thing is why their first words are blurred into being indistinct – they’re both speaking it but not, so it’s confusing as hell and also why they have matching marks instead of the usual call and response marks many have.
> 
> Lessee. Dooku keeps Obi-Wan in locked quarters, with minimal orders on him because this Dooku is a sadist who likes playing with his wayward padawan’s student. Obi-Wan apparently found out about Order 66, and finally felt he had to make a move with an actual Sith spell (Dooku don’t believe in that shit any more than Sidious, but Dooku also collects ALL THE SITHY THINGS).
> 
> Also, yes Dooku likes Making A Lesson by not just Force suppressants, but routine stabbifying, so that’s why Obi-Wan’s lightsaber scar is…messy.


	2. Soulmark Culture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/16/2016, question submitted by [Nordstr0m](http://nordstr0m.tumblr.com/).

## I loved your recent soulmark fic with Rex/Obi, that world has so much potential for Rex/Obi! Though I do have a question about some of the world building, it's mentioned that Rex and Cody are part of the work to have the clones recognized as citizens and individuals with their own rights, a point in their favor being they have soulmarks. Now that Rex has found their soulmate and he's a Sith, would the opponents of the clones gaining rights bring this up as a reason on why they shouldn't?

* * *

….huh. That is an _interesting_ question! I think the opponents of the cause would try to chase that down as Reasons This Is A Bad Idea (along with we’ll have to PAY our slave army), but that’s liable to backfire. One sample of one ‘questionable’ pairing means very little. I mean, one can’t CHOOSE their soulmate. If one being is to be judged for the fact that their other is in jail for any reason, or –

Wow. Nope, I suspect in a society as old and ~~stultified~~ established as the Republic, there’s a LOT of judicial precedent. There’s legal protections in place to keep one soulmate from getting stigmatized by the actions of the other.

(Culturally, if it’s found out that one’s soulmate was up to Illegal Shenanigans, then one gets the stinkeye a LOT. Like calls to like, and all that.)

So I need to change that answer. Obi-Wan’s status as a Sith wouldn’t hinder the Jedi’s cause, but nor would it be of any benefit to the opposition, particularly since other clones should have found soulmates as well.

…. _dammit_. Which leads to 2 points, both of which I had not noticed _at all_ before this. First off, since Cody and Rex are at/near the forefront, then it makes sense for at least one of them to be representative of a soulmarked clone. Since Rex’s is unusual, and for this sort of precedent you want something clearcut, then that means Cody’s got a soulmark.

*adoring fistshake [@deadcatwithaflamethrower](https://tmblr.co/mIqJeeHI-MIa3QoTs8zowxg)* My immediate kneejerk reaction is for Sabé. Sorrynotsorrykindasorry?

Thank you muchly, and I am delighted that you like it!


	3. Obi-Wan's Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/18/2016, submitted by Anon.

## How will Obi-Wan react to being back in the Republic? In the Jedi Temple, even? I imagine he'd have a hard time trusting anyone (his soulmate being the exception)

* * *

Hooo. Boy howdy. I think this starts with “not well at all” and then goes downhill. I mean, this is an Obi-Wan who’s been forced to kill basically whatever Jedi happen to cross his path with the possible exception of Skywalker. At minimum, he’s had to do this for 3 years – 3 years with his body routinely used as a  hell of a deadly puppet to slaughter folks that are anywhere from similar to him (and what if he fails? Would that be worse, if he failed, and died, and then some other poor bastard had to take his place? Gods, that might almost be worse) to friends. Crechemates. He had to have fought Qui-Gon Jinn at some point, and that must have been terrifying, horrific.

Now the war’s over or something – for this bit of speculation I’m going to say it’s over – and he has to spend at least some time in the Temple for a debriefing.

He can _feel_ them. The grief that lingers despite folks trying to release it to the Force. The suspicion that no one bothers to temper when they glare at him.

Very few beings in the Temple remember Obi-Wan Kenobi, failed Jedi.

He’s still the Assassin.

Not that he blames them. He’s standing there in the High Council’s chamber, still with seats he emptied, reciting crimes he would never want to commit, mechanically reciting strategies he was not privy to but he had at least a bit more insight than anyone else present.

He’s escorted back to a ‘guest room’ somewhere, plainly furnished and with no emotional impressions and it’s a relief, honestly. He knows being kept in a room and having to wait. It’s nice, that it’s blunt instead of sugar-coated poison: here, there is only the politest, barest pretext that he is anything but a prisoner.

* * *

Rex has been patient. During the trip back to Coruscant, his soulmate was under heavy questioning, as was Rex himself. There was quite the kerfluffle about chips and Sith and he really had no idea what the fuck was going on, other than the war had been declared officially over (unofficially, everyone acknowledged that there was likely to be armed skirmishes for at least another year).

He’s patiently waited through a whole fucking day of the Jedi High Council asking his soulmate even more questions, but he finally has word that the man’s been taken to quarters assigned to him. Rex stops at the commissary to grab a large tray of food (a little bit of everything – enough for two to share the interesting bits, because plain old ration bars are pretty damn boring).

He _would_ use the doorchime, but there’s a whole squad of Jedi Guardians along the hall and glaring at the one door. He gets sideways, slightly paranoid looks, but he’s waved in.

He knocks on the doorframe anyways as the door slides shut behind him, then he almost drops the tray of food. “Miit'jorir, no.” The tray gets set down hastily enough that the plas plates rattle, and Rex skids on his knees near his soulmate. The man is seated on the floor in a corner, knees up, elbows resting on them. He’s got his hands clasped like he’s trying to warm his hands on his neck, or massage tensed back muscles, but there’s such a lack of movement that Rex doesn’t think that’s it.

Just before Rex gets in arm’s length of the man, the red-head flinches. It’s a tiny thing, something he tries to cover but there’s a spasm of emotion across his face that makes Rex freeze. He hesitates, then goes from his knees to his rump, keeping his hands clear and away from weapons he doesn’t have anyways. “Hey. You hurt?” he asks softly, not sure what to do with the disgusted snort he gets in response. Probably a no.

They sit in silence for a bit, then Rex shrugs. “Want to talk about it?”

“Would you?” his soulmate tosses back, voice soft and with a hint of something Rex wants to call bitterness. The man’s not looking at him, deliberately not making eye contact.

It distresses Rex on a level he doesn’t quite understand. Worse, he can see how the man’s thumbs keep making restless little motions along the shoulders, and he recognizes the places where they stop.

Gods.

“How long did you have to wear it?”

It’s the redhead’s turn to freeze, and his eyes close. “Years,” he finally says. “Before the war started.”

Rex gives an appalled shake of the head. “What idiot decided you’d want low necked tunics?”

The Assassin’s head snaps up, and he looks at Rex with a heartbreaking expression between amusement, gratitude, and something both shameful and haunted. “Of course you would figure – ” He shakes his head and averts his gaze again.

Rex’s hands twitch, wanting to reach out, to touch the being who is supposed to be his other half in some form or fashion, but he can’t figure out what’s _wrong_. Instead of asking, he reaches for the tabs securing his shirt. They’re in the Temple, he’s technically on medical leave, and he came to visit the Assassin: he felt naked without his armor, but he’d known coming in just his blacks and boots was the smart move.

He’s got his top off before the redhead looks at him, and the man freezes as Rex holds out his shirt. “Lighter weight, but at least – What?”

The look he’s getting is as if he’s holding out garbage instead of the shirt he was just wearing. Rex tries not to be self-conscious of the mark on his chest as the Assassin shifts, hands clenching tight around his shoulders. “Absolutely not.” When Rex gives him an incredulous look, the Assassin glares right back. “I already took your body and wore it. That? Is excessive.”

He snorts and keeps holding out the shirt. “Miit'jorir, you really think I would have refused if you had asked?”

“Not the point, and why do you keep calling me ‘word carrier?’”

Of course he speaks Mando’a.  Rex brings his free hand up to tap his soulmark. “That what we call soulmates.” At the confused look, he shrugs. “We clones. That’s what we call them. Also, no one’s bothered to tell me your name yet.”

The redhead stares at him a moment longer. “‘Assassin’ has worked well enough.”

“That’s how you think of yourself?” Again the glance away. “What do you want to be called, miit'jorir?”

This time, it finally seems to resonate. For a few breaths, he refuses to make eye contact. Then he extends a hand to shake. “Obi-Wan,” he says softly.

Rex drapes the shirt over Obi-Wan’s arm before shaking his hand. “Rex.”

* * *

…er. That got out of hand. The short answer should have been that yeah, I think he has a lot of trouble trusting people, himself in particular. Yeah, he might trust Rex, but given what he’s had to do, and how he got free, Obi-Wan does not trust himself.

I ended up going with [@pumpkin-lith](https://tmblr.co/mo8Rgo01v4_DCgPqiVGdApw)’s delightful terms (described [here](http://pumpkin-lith.tumblr.com/post/153299152579/norcumi-i-think-im-finally-falling-over-enough)! :D) because she found poetic sounding words AND translations (and many many thanks to folks weighing in on potential turns of phrase <3)


	4. Qui-Gon's Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/19/2016, submitted by Anon.

## in Equivalent Exchange, how /does/ Qui-Gon react to finding out Dooku's Assassin is/was Obi-Wan? i may or my not be invested in this au a lot now ;)

* * *

…wow. I am so glad I’m not writing this. I mean, I enjoy it, but y’all keep opening interesting new scenes and such and I’m just very glad I’m not trying to stitch it into a coherent whole (I am very, very lucky that someone else is tackling this universe while I bang around bumping into things and seeing what shinies pop out).

Hmm. So Rex-but-feels-weirdly-different-in-the-Force (yay, soulmates! Could prolly pass as Rex having a weird day, except he’s not even trying) has managed to convince Qui-Gon and Anakin that there are these chips, and he’s not Rex but he has intel, now please here’s what’s going down. The chips end up being proof enough, and the other intel pans out.

Then Rex-but-not promises them quite the coup – the Assassin himself. It’s a pretty little trap, requiring initiates with some acting skills and a bit of slight of hand, but they’ve made it into hyper with just Anakin, Qui-Gon, Ahsoka, and Rex-but-not aboard. Rex-but-not refuses to say who he is (though by now Qui-Gon is suspicious – after all, if this man can provide them with the Assassin he’s either playing quite the long con or is the man himself). Possibly refuses to stay in a room long with Qui-Gon, barely looks at him, and when Rex-but-not does, it’s with a stony, stoic expression that reminds Qui-Gon of…something. Something he can’t quite put his finger on, something he knows but cannot quite see.

Then it goes down as Rex-but-not predicted. The Assassin is there, weapons at the ready, only a hair slower than any reports have ever put him at. A simple – powerful – group Force shove, pinning the killer against the wall, and Rex-but-not is snarling something that makes Qui-Gon’s skin crawl, syllables of power that shudder through the Force.

Between the Force push and the way that damned terrifying gorget splits and falls, so too does the Assassin’s mask. It’s an all enveloping structure, much like what Jedi Guardians wear though more ominous and less fanciful. Qui-Gon is busy letting go of the Assassin and using the Force to move the pectoral away from them all (it now reeks of potential Dark power, and it makes him nauseous to touch it with the Force). Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shock of red-blond hair as the Assassin collapses, then his view is obscured by Rex-but-not catching him. By the time he’s shoved that nasty bit of Sith vileness into the back cabin’s little supply cupboard (and closed several doors between there and here) he’s heard some words exchanged but he’s not really paying attention.

He looks up to see Rex-but-not kissing some redhead. It’s not quite enthusiastic so much as desperate, and Qui-Gon can feel something _else_ in the Force. Not twisted, not (quite) as dark as that pectoral, but still Off.

When Rex pulls back, the posture is back to normal, as is the feel of him in the Force.

Qui-Gon can finally see the Assassin’s face, and the old Jedi cannot breathe.

Obi-Wan died (on Tatooine, so Qui-Gon had to fight that injured monster alone on Naboo – because his padawan had been just successful enough, so was Qui-Gon, but Force, at what cost? Or maybe there was no Sith on Naboo, because Obi-Wan had been successful and so Sidious took him as a new toy for his actual new apprentice Dooku. Or he had ‘died’ on Naboo, and in the chaos of a _war_ the body went missing, much to Qui-Gon’s endless regret. Or perhaps it had been earlier, on any number of planets in the middle of any number of conflicts that the Council sent Master Jinn and his student to). Yet it is unquestionably Obi-Wan Kenobi, voice richer than that of the young man’s Qui-Gon taught, face lined with grief where once there had been laughter. Obi-Wan, somehow impossibly grown older, somehow a survivor of death and –

And then Qui-Gon has to fight very hard not to vomit. Obi-Wan is alive.

Obi-Wan is the Assassin. The man who killed so very many Jedi, slaughtered countless numbers of clone soldiers, destroyed gods alone knew how much of the Republic’s progress in this miserable war.

Obi-Wan is _Dooku’s_ Assassin. Qui-Gon’s master did this to his grand-padawan, inflicted that horrific collar on Qui-Gon’s padawan as a means of control and manipulation and torture that he is only now just beginning to grasp.

Were he any less a Master of the Living Force, Qui-Gon Jinn would have Fallen then and there, rampaged off to slaughter his Master without a single shred of regret left.

Anakin knows, from the shock playing through the Force, but Obi-Wan is at most a faint figure in his history over a decade ago. He takes over, gently separating Rex and – and Obi-Wan, promising that they just have some questions they need to ask, please Ahsoka take the helm get them back to Coruscant.

Obi-Wan still refuses to meet Qui-Gon’s eyes. The Jedi stoicism that Obi-Wan could so well maintain as a public facade is now a solid barricade between them, turned stony with Force only knows what kind of horrific treatment from Dooku or others.

Qui-Gon learns exactly what kind of treatment, from Obi-Wan himself. It is an emotionless overview, recited like a Council report only less interesting (and infinitely more horrifying). Anakin takes the lead, asking questions like a true Jedi – gentle, but relentless.

They’re all swaying with exhaustion by the time Anakin calls a halt to it. He is still gentle as he informs Obi-Wan that they have to leave him in the small cabin (and there is no protest, no waver in the man’s mental shields, just acquiescence). Anakin catches Ahsoka’s eye and they leave Qui-Gon alone.

The silence is thick with the past and failures. No resentment, no bitterness. No eye contact. Finally Qui-Gon forces himself to speak. “I am glad that you are alive. I deeply regret all that you have had to endure.” So paltry. Such an understatement. He wishes so very much that he could scream his outrage at a cruel, uncaring universe that has done _this_ to his student, even as he wants to swoop him up in a hug and never let go as if Obi-Wan were still a young padawan with barely a braid to speak of.

Obi-Wan bows his head, then manages “I am glad that you live as well.”

Much of Qui-Gon wants to find something he can break.

The rest of him is too busy monitoring Obi-Wan every way possible as he steps forward and carefully, oh so gently pulls his padawan into a hug. Obi-Wan doesn’t move very far, never clings back, but Qui-Gon can feel how the silent, near-motionless weeping is cathartic.


	5. Anakin and Ahsoka's reactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/19/2016, question submitted by Anon.

## in Equivalent Exchange, what do Anakin and Ahsoka end up doing in the meantime, knowing what they know now about Obi-wan? hell, how does Anakin feel about it, he used to be a slave, he prob kinda sympathizes.

* * *

It’d been a full rotation since they’d brought the Assassin back to the Temple, and Ashoka can’t find her master anywhere. Given how that usually goes, she tries comming Padmé first. To her surprise, Padmé didn’t even know they were back on planet.

On a hunch, Ahsoka heads down to one of the smaller hangers that she knows Skyguy likes acrobatic exits from. He’s the only being there, without even R2 around. He’s seated on one of the low-powered hover boards like he’s due to duck under his star fighter and use the spanner he’s holding listlessly.  Not a twitch from him as Ahsoka enters the hanger, but she can feel that little shift that means she has at least a bit of his attention. It’s a weird, subtle little thing in the Force, like stepping into a patch of sunlight that’s been warming old floorboards all afternoon. It’s not technically someone shining a light on her, but it’s a clear difference.

When she’s close enough to talk instead of shout, she slows. “You’ve been brooding awhile, Skyguy.”

He shoots her that little look, a sideways glance with half a humorless smile that looks so tired. “C’mon, Snips, it hasn’t even been a full rotation of brooding yet.”

She leans against the familiar lines of his starfighter. “However long it’s been, I don’t quite understand.”

Skyguy looks down at the ‘spanner in his hands, rotating it restlessly. “We know him. Qui-Gon and me.”

“I guessed, since you were talking to him that way without even asking his name.”

Again that humorless half-smile. “You’re doing a good job covering your unease, padawan-mine, but I think you’re feeling a lot.”

She somehow manages not to cringe too much. “He’s the Assassin. He’s killed how many soldiers? Nearly killed you, for that matter.”

That makes his hands clench too tight on the spanner. If he wasn’t wearing gauntlets, his organic knuckles would show white. He makes a few attempts at speech, and when he finally does it’s soft. “On Zygerria. Could you see the arenas?”

“A few. Why?”

He shakes his head. “The gladiatorial arenas.”

For a moment, the words linger and she doesn’t understand. Then it clicks, and she feels more nauseous than she usually does when thinking about that horrible mission. “They make people fight? That wasn’t just more – more slave auctions?” As if that wasn’t bad enough.

“Yeah. Fight to the death, most of the time.”

Dear gods. Ahsoka tries to release her unease into the Force, glaring away. “That’s horrible, but I don’t get it. What’s the connection, Master?”

He flinches at that, which makes him huff and toss the ‘spanner onto the ground. “It took me years to get used to that,” he says. “Calling someone ‘master’ and not thinking it meant – ” He shakes his head again. “Most of the time I’m used to it from you, but right now – I’m glad you don’t mind using that nickname for me.”

Oh. Ahsoka crosses her arms. “You know I don’t use it – You’re not – You’re my teacher, not my owner.”

There’s a long pause, then a sigh. “I grew up a slave, Snips. I spent almost 10 years knowing that anyone called ‘Master’ had the right to do whatever they wanted to or with me, my mother, my friends. Even having friends was a dumb idea, because they could be used against you.”

She knew him well enough to know that it was unlikely that he’d let that stop him, and from the sound of it they _had_ been used against him. “Who is he?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Now that’s a name she recognizes. Ahsoka gapes at her master. “Qui-Gon’s padawan? I thought he was dead!”

“So did we.” Anakin looks up at her, and his expression is haggard, pained. “He’d never do the things the Assassin has done, if he had any choice. Hells, he’s Rex’s soulmate, can you imagine _Rex_ doing anything like that?”

“He’d die fir – ” The words stick in her throat, and she suspects that she’s giving Anakin a haunted look. “A slave. Made to fight, when everyone thought he was dead.” His slow nod is enough to knock the wind out of her. “ _Force_.”

“Yeah.” They stare out at the Coruscant skyline for awhile until Anakin sighs. “I know we don’t hate. I’ve been pretty upset with the Assassin from the first kills, and yeah, he did a good job roughing me up. But even if he wasn’t Obi-Wan – I can’t blame someone in that position.” He huffs a ghost of a laugh. “Doesn’t make it easy at all, but it helps in releasing all those emotions.”

The silence descends again, and somehow Ahsoka finds the courage to ask the tough question. “Were you ever in a position like that?”

It’s at times like this that she’s reminded that for all his flamboyance and unconventionality, Anakin Skywalker is almost a Master Jedi in all but name. It’s impossible to read, and she feels as if she’s being judged.

He is _almost_ a Master in all but name. He looks away, and Ahsoka can feel a tiny blush of shame in the Force from him. “I only knew him a few days, but I used to ask Qui-Gon about him a lot. Do you want to know about Obi-Wan?”

It’s always strange when her master finds himself lacking, but not her. She takes the offered escape. “Please.” She moves around to sit on the hoverboard with him, bumping shoulders as he starts to talk.

* * *

Thanks Anon! I, er, did not see most of that coming. Yaaay, angst!


	6. Cody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/20/2016, questions submitted by Anon and [MyUrbanDream](https://myurbandream.tumblr.com/).

## So, where does Cody factor into EE? Does he sort of act as Rex's overprotective

* * *

*flails* Like, 95% of my headcanon about Cody is [@pumpkin-lith](https://tmblr.co/mo8Rgo01v4_DCgPqiVGdApw)‘s fault and her awesome stuff to reveal. So my apologies if this is light on detail. ^_^;;

Cody’s a supportive figure in Rex’s life. They were close during training, and getting assigned to Skywalker and Jinn means they worked together often and well. 

As for Obi-Wan…. Cody trusts Rex, and Rex’s soulmate… _should_ be reliable and trustworthy. His history as the Assassin, well. Cody’s still going to play it cautious, but he _does_ trust Rex.

(I think Cody and Obi-Wan end up as decent-to-good buds. I think the dry sense of humor (possibly somewhat grim humor?) would be something they share and enjoy)

* * *

* * *

##  [myurbandream](https://myurbandream.tumblr.com/) said: EEEEEE who is Cody’s soulmate I MUST KNOW!!!!  *grabby hands*

* * *

I honestly have no idea! ^_^;;; See, by now _for some unknown reason_ (endless hugs and cookies to [@deadcatwithaflamethrower](https://tmblr.co/mIqJeeHI-MIa3QoTs8zowxg) ), I default ship Cody and Sabe. This is where I’m thankful I’m just dabbling and gleefully playing with questions to my inbox without having to deal with the consequences of actually _plotting_ things out. 

I honestly have no idea who [@pumpkin-lith](https://tmblr.co/mo8Rgo01v4_DCgPqiVGdApw) is shipping/planning on shipping, though I greatly look forward to whatever the results are (….and it is ALL HER FAULT that she jokingly suggested a ship (…I think jokingly?) and my brain started giggling like MAD over it. Stupid brain).


	7. Rex/Obi fluff and feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/20/2016, submitted by Anon.

## Ah man, it kills me (in a good way) to think about Rex using Obi-Wan's really names + pet names. Like, it's been so long since Obi-Wan's had anyone recognise who he really is, let alone /cherish/ who he really is — once he stops thinking himself totally undeserving of that affection, I bet it's… really, really nice

* * *

Obi-Wan isn’t sure when it the morning it is, only that the local planet’s suns a making lovely patterns across the bedroom’s floor. The bed is comfortable, and Rex is warmth spooned up behind him, wrapped around him – Rex has proven to be the cuddliest being Obi-Wan has ever met, not that he’s complaining.

It’s strange, for all that it’s…nice.

He knows Rex has been awake for awhile. “Been up long?” Rex finally asks in that deep, lovely morning rumble that always has quite an effect on him. Obi-Wan smiles and shifts enough that he can take Rex’s hand, lace their fingers together.

“Probably.”

Rex grunts acknowledgement before leaning in to place a light kiss high on Obi-Wan’s back, morning stubble scraping just a little near his spine. It’s a deliberate move, that reminder of freedom, even as Rex seems to know when Obi-Wan wants that reassurance of a still-gentle but more enveloping hold.

He’s probably stiffened a little at the notion (he’s hoping one of these years having nothing ‘round his neck or weighing down his shoulders will stop snarling hints of panic over when will it come back, but that’s been a slower healing process than he likes), because Rex scoots closer – how, Obi-Wan can never figure. He’s met octopi and small children with less ability to cling.

“What’re you chewing on this early in the morning, miit'jorir?”

That comfortable, easy acknowledgement of Obi-Wan and their soulmarks always make him feel more human, more _real_. He shifts their hands up, resting them over the mark on his chest and the scar tissue underneath it.

“Irony.” He allows himself a smile. “My temper almost got me booted from the Order, out to the Agricorp. I was devastated, because I was certain I ought to be a Jedi. Now the Order wants me back for my ability to fight, and we’re still negotiating with how many quasi-hostile farming enclaves now?” The latter is a slight exaggeration, but the point is better made.

Rex’s chuckle shivers through both of them. “Anakin’s going to keep using it as an excuse for vacations and to catch us up on his kids’ antics.”

“He’s better for the flashy assignments anyways.”

Rex’s thumb brushes back and forth along Obi-Wan’s collarbone. “You keep talking them into working with us, miit'jorir. I’ll keep having your back.”

It’s lovely, that Rex keeps saying things like that, for all that by now? Obi-Wan knows. That, of course, is one of the best parts of it all.


	8. Rex's Defense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/20/2016, question submitted by [Nordstr0m](http://nordstr0m.tumblr.com/).

## Okay, I'm really sorry for constantly messaging you about your Equivalent Exchange universe, but it's so fantastic, I started tearing up about Rex bringing Obi-wan food and then just trying to help him through his distress. I love that here we're seeing Rex seeming to take over the primary caregiving role with Obi-wan, I don't think we see that side of Rex enough. My question is though, does Rex get into fights in defense of Obi-wan, physical, verbal, etc? What role would Obi-wan play in GAR?

* * *

Unless you’re also secretly several anons in a trenchcoat, it’s not just you. ;) It’s fine! Though I gotta say, cheeeeeeze, the snippet’s y’all are finding – !

Short answer: I now think yes, and I’m not sure about his role.

Long answer:

* * *

There’s usually something soothing to taking a sparring practice droid to bits, but not today. Rex’s body is burning with the strain, having spent far too long being way too aggressive and still he can’t quite douse that burning ember of rage inside.

He’s not sure when the small sparring room gains another occupant, but something inside him knows. It always knows.

He has to stop denting the damn padded tinny, forcing himself to step back, fall into a ready fighting stance but more for the muscle memory of stopping than preparation for another round. Rex makes himself slow his breathing, pacing around in furious little circles before looking up.

Obi-Wan is in that precise stance, arms crossed but standing straight where others would slouch. One brow is raised a bit, for an expression of polite, mild interest.

“If you want to beat something up so badly, I’m willing to spar.”

Rex’s hands clench back into fists, and he turns to face the fighting dummy. He’s not embarrassed about that, at least. “You heard.”

The snort draws Rex’s eyes back to his soulmate. Obi-Wan has this way of smiling, a tiny curl of the lips though the humor doesn’t quite show in his eyes. “You were in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, nearly challenging several Jedi masters to a collective duel. I think _maybe_ a handful of beings in the Temple heard you.”

Rex’s lips pull back to show his teeth. “They were out of line, Jedi or not. _Masters_ or not.” He doesn’t meant to spit the title, particularly not with that much disdain, but too late now and he doesn’t regret it.

“Not our masters,” Obi-Wan whispers, moving smoother and faster than most Jedi ever bother with outside of battle. His hand is by his side, fingers lifted just a bit, and that gives Rex some hope. It’s a huge tell for Obi-Wan, and the very fact that he would reach out for Rex at all isn’t something he does much.

“No,” Rex agrees, reaching out to grasp Obi-Wan by the shoulder. It’s a solid grip that Rex shifts around until he’s halfway got his soulmate by the nape of the neck, and he pulls gently even as he moves forward until they’re nose to nose, forehead to forehead. “Not ours.” They spend far too little time like that, just breathing each other in, until Obi-Wan starts to tense. Rex lets go and steps back, stretching muscles that are still informing him of how fucking stupid he can be. He snarls an involuntary groan, only to freeze at the light touch of fingers on his shoulderblades. Obi-Wan always moves fast and silent, a habit that Rex mourns even as he admires the hell out of it. Then Force healing seeps into his muscles, soothing down his arms and sides in a way that leaves him wanting to moan instead.

Not yet. Rex knows that, would not ever push that, but sometimes Obi-Wan makes it damned difficult. Not that Rex would entirely complain: his sense of humor runs in that vein as well. He shivers in spite of himself as his soulmate’s hands slide away, and he needs an extra moment to compose himself.

“Good distraction job,” he declares, a little more gruff than usual even as he admires the effectiveness. This time Obi-Wan’s smile is larger, genuine humor making his eyes shine.

“Not quite good enough,” he grants, sitting down on the raised bench near the door. He takes the outer end, nearest the doorway, but it’s a small bench and he deliberately leaves enough room for Rex to sit next to him.

It’s a small bench, so their entire sides are pressed up against each other. Rex is very aware of the stillness to Obi-Wan which abruptly fades into a contented slump against him. He’d damn catlike in that regard, and Rex has seen how Obi-Wan never allows himself to relax around others. He fakes it for others, when he can be bothered with that particular social nicety, but so far it’s only with Rex that he does it for real.

Obi-Wan gives him enough time to be lulled into a false sense of security before springing the trap. “What _was_ the argument about?”

False safety, but genuine relaxation. Rex sighs. “The usual. ‘If you’ve really left behind the Assassin then you ought to be out as an official part of the GAR – ’”

“No.” It’s a simple, almost flippant answer, but Rex can feel the way his soulmate goes from relaxed to prepared to move, run, fight his way out if need be. “I’m done fighting on others’ orders. Never fucking again.”

“I know.” Rex slides his arm back so he can drape it over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “I was ruder and more long winded about it, but that’s what I said.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Stop fighting my battles for me.”

Rex rolls his eyes, bringing his other arm around so he can place his hand over Obi-Wan’s soulmark. “Even we don’t order each other to fight, miit'jorir. Don’t try ordering me to _not_ fight.”

He has yet to figure out why, but the name and touch to the soulmark always makes Obi-Wan melt. Today is no exception. Obi-Wan carefully brings an arm around Rex’s waist.

“Fine. Then stop getting into stupid ass arguments about me.”

Rex smiles and shakes his head, dropping a light kiss onto his soulmate’s forehead. “You know I never find anything about you to be stupid.”

Instead there’s a telling little pause. Obi-Wan’s voice is so soft Rex almost can’t hear him. “I don’t deserve you.”

Rex jerks upright, protest on his lips but silenced by the way Obi-Wan clutches at his shirt. Before he can find words, Obi-Wan is looking up at him, and the fierce, determined light in his eyes silences anything he might say. “Keeping you anyways,” Obi-Wan mutters defiantly, before leaning in for an impulsive kiss.

It’s fast, aggressive – like everything Obi-Wan does and is. It has none of the desperation of their first kiss, on the nightmarish shuttle, but it is the first time since then that there’s been anything remotely like it. It’s fast, it’s heated, it’s wonderful. When they finally pull apart, Obi-Wan is searching Rex’s face. It takes him a moment to find words. “Good,” Rex finally declares, cautiously leaning in to kiss his soulmate again.


	9. The Unwelcome Committee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr on 11/21/2016, question submitted by [MyUrbanDream](https://myurbandream.tumblr.com/).

## Ok, I have been thinking about Equivalent Exchange all afternoon, so @ you and/or @pumpkin-lith: who *doesn't* accept Obi-Wan back? Or who acknowledges but refuses to forgive him? (Obviously this is almost everyone, but who that we *know*?)

* * *

….huh.

….I…got nothing? 

I mean, there’s the usual suspects. Mace who doesn’t trust this killer who took down FAR too many of the Council – let alone the Order as a whole – over these past years (or perhaps he looks at his friend Qui-Gon’s student, and he remembers how his own padawan walked into the Darkness on Haruun Kal, and he reminds himself of forgiveness). Yoda, who is old and seen too much, and he remembers that anger in young Obi-Wan (or maybe he remembers how that anger was always directed, and instead he appreciates that the anger is towards enemies of the Order).

There’s playing some different angles. There’s Plo Koon, who I adore and always want to save and have as a hero (and you can pry that headcanon that he and Qui-Gon were the crechemates who shared “pathetic life forms that followed them home today” from my cold dead hands) – but canonically he and his species are very absolutist, seeing things in blacks and whites and no shades inbetween. Kenobi _Fell_. He walked in the Dark. We all know that once you go down the Dark path, it will consume you. There is no return, and Obi-Wan Kenobi might as well have been the Assassin’s first victim. 

There’s any number of Councilors who might have lost a soulmate to him, or padawans, or friends. Strass Allie could well be looking at the man who slaughtered her beloved cousin, the woman who held the Council seat before she did. 

If Quinlan Vos is still alive, he might have lost his padawan. Alternatively, Aayla Secura might not be willing to forgive a man who killed a friend from their padawan years, particularly not after her master had to endure mind wipes, torture, passing into the Darkness and making it out only to be cut down by the emotionless, ruthless _Kenobi_ who had once called him friend. No forgiveness, not for one who could fight for a soulmate he’d never met but not a close friend. Not with how he slaughtered Vos and an entire company of clones (brain, WHY are you insisting that included Bly? What is WRONG with you?). 

Barriss has always been a few centimeters shy of sanity. She would not take well to the Order accepting back the one who killed her Master, all the troops who tried to shield the padawan. The only reason she survived (not whole, but alive was far better than most who were on the same battlefield as the one known as Execution) is because a full flight of air support came in for the express purpose of turning him into scrap. (They had failed miserably, and Ahsoka was the only reason search and rescue crews found the tiny handful of survivors) 

Perhaps Master Unduli still cannot grasp why her padawan saw this monster, accepted the reality he presented, and fought back against the whole war’s boundless brutality in increasingly deranged ways only to fall to his blades before – before Luminara could _do_ anything, before she could understand what was happening with her padawan, before Barriss could get some help, before the mark of a bright youngling’s acceptance to be Luminara’s padawan faded from her arm.

Ok, so maybe I have SOME notions, but it’s all damned speculative, and could go either way. ^_^;; Um, [@pumpkin-lith](https://tmblr.co/mo8Rgo01v4_DCgPqiVGdApw), any notions and/or comments? XD 

* * *

[pumpkin-lith's fabulous followup is located here!](http://pumpkin-lith.tumblr.com/post/153468127304/ok-i-have-been-thinking-about-equivalent-exchange)


	10. Qui-Gon's Reaction, 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/27/2016, question submitted by [PunsBulletsAndPointyThings](http://punsbulletsandpointythings.tumblr.com/).

## *whispers* I don't suppose you have any more Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan interactions for EE that I could possibly bribe you into sharing?

* * *

Bribery not needed, just time for me to hit a cranky patch of inspiration. ^_^

* * *

Their first time out in the field of battle together, Qui-Gon is stunned. The whole damn planet is in denial, still rooting for the CIS to win a war that’s over. The locals have droids to back them up, pleanty of ammo, and it’s either chance that means the GAR is spread thin with a variety of pirate problems, or someone is far more clever than Qui-Gon would like to think.

No matter. The 501 and 212 are at it again, only this time, Obi-Wan is with them. Honestly, Qui-Gon was perhaps the least surprised to find that Obi-Wan wanted to take the lead on negotiating with the locals. Despite their horrible tendency to fall into much greater trouble than anyone could expect, this _is_ what Obi-Wan was trained for. Also, he has inside knowledge that might provide leverage, and it is vastly different from the role he was forced to take on as the Assassin.

It goes pear shaped, of course. They don’t even make it _to_ the negotiating table – the shuttle taking them there gets ambushed on the way.

Then. Oh, and then. There’s something trying to crawl up Qui-Gon’s throat, and he’s not sure if it’s his heart or his stomach. The command staff is fighting their way out of the ambush, though it’s looking like an awful lot of the droids to the local army are consolidated here, in the hopes of some sort of final “fuck you” to the GAR and the Republic.

Any of them – even ‘just’ Rex or Cody – could wreak plenty of havoc. They are doing so.

It is one thing to know intellectually that Obi-Wan has been the Assassin, the terrifying inhuman killer who has slaughtered gods know how many Jedi and clones by now.

The Assassin is a hooded figure in black and the horrible glittering silver of cortosis.

Obi-Wan refuses to wear dark colors, sticking to more neutral tans and blues (so much 501st blue, as if the way he and Rex move together could be a bond in doubt). The red hair, the blue lightsaber – he is a bold figure fighting his way through the droids with a manic, terrifying smile.

He’s beautiful. Power and grace and weapon-work that puts many of the Order’s greatest duelists to shame.

He is terrifying. Darkness careens through the battlefield with him, stretching out to crush droids without hesitation, bowling their remains through other droids while Obi-Wan catapults about through blasterfire as if he can slither his way through that hail of fire without worry.

Seeing him in action, there is no doubt whatsoever that this is the Assassin.

Later on, watching Obi-Wan gently nag Rex into Medical with that old, familiar combination of teasing, nudges, and implacable determination, Qui-Gon feels even more disoriented. That care and affection – it is so like the Obi-Wan of old that it is dizzying.

The feral way Obi-Wan tries to keep his back away from all but Rex, the tense way his eyes track the medics that come to tend Rex even as he puns his way through the examination – it is new, foreign, and reeks so much of the Assassin that Qui-Gon is ashamed to find his hand upon his lightsaber.

He is not surprised, but he is ashamed.

* * *

In an attempt to deal with that incongruity, on the way back to Coruscant Qui-Gon tries to get Obi-Wan to spar with him. He hopes that perhaps with a bit of familiarity, his discomfort will improve.

Obi-Wan glares at him in a way that should set him on fire. He refuses, and makes it clear that he will not. Not now, not later. “I’m _don_ e fighting Jedi.”

The bitterness and grief leaves trails of Darkness throughout the ship for the next day.

* * *

Qui-Gon might have prepared for this. Not being an entire idiot, he casually hands a small box to Rex, telling him it’s for Obi-Wan. It’s not sealed, because they both know Rex would check anyways.

It’s just Rex and Obi-Wan when the grumpy but mystified ex-Jedi opens up a box of his favorite teas – something he hasn’t had access to for literally years. When he manages to compose himself, he takes it to Qui-Gon’s quarters, and shares a pot, cautiously talking about nothing. Everything. Just…talking over tea.


	11. Battle Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr on 11/30/2016, question submitted by Anon.

## In EE -- what sort of fallout is there, the first time Obi-Wan has to fight again? (Probably in self-defence, I'm assuming?)

* * *

He’s gone through countless katas. Beat up countless practice droids. Sparred enough times that his muscles know new patterns after far too long of just being obedient to his damned collar. He’s play-fought Rex, Skywalker, groups of brothers and even on a memorable, strange occasion, Qui-Gon.

He was smart, and started slow. Made sure to use protective gear and practice weapons.

Rex has been careful – not protective or smothering, but making sure to be nearby if not sparring with Obi-Wan directly.

It still goes horribly wrong.

It’s a simple diplomatic mission. Rex and Obi-Wan are on leave, technically, but Ahsoka has invited them to travel with her on one of her first solo missions as a new Knight. They’re technically passengers, not even backup that shouldn’t be needed, just friends planet-hopping on the Jedi Council’s credit (or perhaps the Senate’s – Obi-Wan didn’t inquire).

He remembers how enough missions went sour when he was a padawan. He should know better.

Instead, as they’re separating at the spaceport’s entrance, there’s an ambush. Local dissidents, looking to send a message. Over a dozen of them, maybe two.

Blasters. Vibroblades.

There’s not the feel in the Force of brothers, the ties between the clones that marks them as his people, his brothers, Rex’s kin. There’s not the hum of Force-users that ground him in the reality of where he is and what he is doing.

His lightsaber is out and deflecting blaster bolts back. Some he aims to take down the attackers. He’s trying to go for disabling shots, but his muscles keep twitching, his aim is shit and for all that he’s practiced, he can _feel_ how other instincts are clamoring for more. It’s the Darkness in the air, anger-fear-hate-aggression soaking into his skin and wrapping around his shoulders like the weight of cortosis.

He tries to shake that memory off, stepping back and switching to a more defensive fighting style. Mistake and a good move both. He’s not deflecting the shots as readily.

He does however feel the sneaky bastards coming in from behind them. He’s spinning and driving his lightsaber through two of them, and it’s something about the way it smells, searing flesh and clothes and there’s that meaty _tump_ of the corpse hitting the ground. He takes down three more, fast as the flickers of plasma can move, and it is just threat, no-longer-a-threat, and obstacle.

The Force shivers along his side, and the Assassin curls around, _away_ before a blaster shot would take him in the chest. It skims past him, close but an easy dodge. He’s turning to stab the threat a little further to his side when the dodged blast extinguishes itself on an obstacle.

Rex going down with a smoking shoulder and snarled curses that mean he’s alive and now he’s angry.

Obi-Wan crushes the throat of Rex’s shooter without a hesitation. He goes from brutal and efficient to fast and desperately violent. Even those who fell – stunned or wounded or just clumsy – now die.

The Force is screaming at him (or maybe that’s just his own damn mind) the moment the threat is clear. He drops his weapon, spinning and diving for Rex. His soulmate is sitting up by now, one of his blasters ready, grimace on his face, and scanning the crowd. Most are fleeing, some security types are approaching (Tano has those good he can ignore them).

He freezes just short of touching his miit’jorir. This is his fault. Too much the Assassin, too little of the man who once upon a time was close enough to this precious person he just allowed to be shot in his place – his fault.

Rex looks at him, and there’s a flash of something on his face. He drops his blaster, and Obi-Wan catches it before it hits the ground (chromium, a gift from Amidala and the Naboo, it’s _important_ to his soulmate and if Rex would let that fall then things must be dire even if it weren’t important clones _do not drop their weapons_ ) –

His thoughts stutter to a halt as Rex’s hand settles at the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. His eyes track up from the gun to meet Rex’s, and his soulmate is watching him with so much worry it outweighs the pain. Rex has been saying something, but damned if Obi-Wan heard a single syllable.

Rex has the tiniest smile – gentle, forgiving, how the utter hells could that be? – when he sees Obi-Wan looking at him. “Good job.”

Obi-Wan’s already shaking his head, pulling back a little. No. No, he _knows_ better, should have incapacitated, shouldn’t have gotten lost in old nightmares _should not have let his_ _miit’jorir_ _get hurt_.

Rex’s grip tightens just a little, and damned if the world doesn’t spiral a little bit more into focus. “Obi-Wan.” Oh, gods, the way he sometimes says that, low and soft and with that deep rumble that somehow echoes more emotions than should be caught in one human voice. “I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

He shouldn’t slump closer to his soulmate, shouldn’t let out a wounded little noise because it’s _Rex_ who is hurt, _Rex_ who genuinely is wounded. Yet Rex shifts his hold, pulling Obi-Wan closer while shifting his grip so that his arm is draped across shoulders instead of just at the neck.

After a moment, he’s regained enough composure to smile at Rex. “Well. How about in the future we both learn to duck better?”

**Author's Note:**

> And that seems to be all I have for this universe. If you want more, I'll cheerfully direct you again to [Pumpkin-Lith](http://pumpkin-lith.tumblr.com/)'s glorious fic [Ashnar Urcir](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710687/chapters/19972156), and encourage y'all to read, comment, and squee at her. ^_^


End file.
